


Being with You is Enough

by stormysgambit



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Argentina, Christmas, Fluff, Holidays, Light Angst, M/M, adjustment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormysgambit/pseuds/stormysgambit
Summary: Tooru is fully expecting to spend his first Christmas in Argentina alone until Hajime shows up at his door
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 46





	Being with You is Enough

Two days before Christmas, and Tooru is moping around his apartment. According to Hajime, he’s always been aggressively into the holidays, but this year his heart’s just not in it. Instead of the excessive yet tasteful décor he anticipated, his walls are surprisingly bare. As they have been since he moved in. Save for a handful of photos it pains him to look at and the signed Jose Blanco jersey. He’s only just recently managed to find the time to start putting his personal stamp on the place, perhaps because in the back of his mind he has been wondering what happens if all this doesn’t work out.

It’s not just the difference in climate that’s throwing Tooru off, eventually he’ll get used to wearing shorts in December. With the holiday literally around the corner, he is quite simply; homesick. Obviously it’s to be expected, he threw himself halfway across the world right out of high school. He knew there would be an adjustment period, having to learn a whole new language and set of customs. Leaving everyone he knows and loves behind. But one of the things he has always prided himself on is never backing down from a challenge or turning away from something because it’s hard.

While Tooru likes to believe he excels under pressure (even if a lot if it is self imposed, and Hajime may argue differently), those first couple of months were harder than he likes to admit. He’s finally gotten to the point where he feels confident in his Spanish, though everyone has been more than willing to help him as he muddles his way through it, not judging him if he lapses back into Japanese searching for a word.

On a larger scale, he knew what he was giving up when he decided to come here chasing his dream. On a smaller scale, he didn’t. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to find soba or ramen anywhere and that he would have to make do with rice that doesn’t behave the way it’s supposed to. If he wants to eat the food he has grown up eating, he has to make it himself, which doesn’t sound that difficult in theory, but when it’s so hard for him to get his hands on the proper ingredients…He didn’t even think to bring chopsticks with him.

With no one here to stop him and the weight of the need to prove himself pressing in on him from all sides, he fell back into old, familiar habits, like slipping on a well worn glove. Staying at the gym long after his teammates had left. Practicing until his head is spinning from the lack of oxygen, lungs screaming for air until they feel raw.

He knew he wasn’t going to waltz into the locker room and be made starting setter right off the bat, he’s not so deluded he thinks he can dethrone someone who’s got ten years on him. He knows it will take time, and yet he can’t shake that nasty voice in the back of his mind, the one asking him what makes him think he’s good enough to be here at all, when he’s a nobody. He’s here but it doesn’t feel like he’s truly earned his spot on the roster yet. He can picture it, his spot, just outside of his reach, like a branch he’s trying to grab hold of to pull himself ashore while being swept away in a riptide current. All while that serpentine voice whispers in his ear that he hasn’t earned it yet.

The one thing that kept Tooru from completely falling apart sometimes during those first few months were frequent video calls with Hajime. No longer being able to see Hajime whenever he wanted had hurt Tooru the most, the ache of a deep bruise settling on his heart. The support system he was so used to fading away to little more than a ghost. Knowing Hajime needed to focus on his studies, Tooru maintained a smile every call, wincing inwardly at the strain he could hear in his voice. If he could hear it, surely Hajime, always so tuned to Tooru’s thoughts, emotions, and physical well being, noticed it.

They danced around it, neither of them bringing up the dark circles under Tooru’s eyes, focusing on Hajime’s instead. Telling stories about his life in Argentina that barely scratched the surface of how he was feeling. Until Tooru had a breakdown and called Hajime at three in the morning because suddenly everything felt wrong and he needed him, needed to hear Hajime’s voice, even though what he truly longed for was Hajime’s reassuring presence.

“You knew you were going to have to work hard to earn your place, and it may take longer than you thought, but Tooru it will happen. They wouldn’t have offered you a spot if they didn’t think you were worth investing in. You don’t have to prove yourself to the team, you wouldn’t be there if you did, you know that right? Just go out there, play the way you always do, and it will happen. I know it will.” Hajime had paused briefly before adding, “And remember to stretch properly before and after and no overextending yourself. You’re no good if you can’t play.”

After that, Tooru settled into life in Argentina, getting cooking and Spanish lessons from a few elderly ladies living in his complex, going over just to visit them a few times a week because he enjoyed their company and hearing about their families. Continuously declining offers to be set up with granddaughters because his heart already belongs to someone. He found himself able to relax and grow more comfortable around his teammates, joking around with them during practice, going to more of the team outings after games rather than heading home because he felt like an outsider. His brain started inserting Hajime into his solo practices, telling him when to go home, and always reminding him to stretch and hydrate. Words he’d heard often enough over the years. Tooru still doesn’t listen all the time, but hearing Hajime’s voice helps.

Tooru can say that he loves life in Argentina now. Everything is clicking into place for him. He loves the country, his team, and his teammates. It’s already starting to feel more like a home than Japan ever did, far less oppressive, he can discover who he truly is and no one will judge him for it. He has no reason to be depressed over the holidays, and yet here he is.

He’s not returning to Japan for the holidays, so he will be celebrating here in Argentina, or rather he should be. There are a lot of things he should be doing. He should be baking with his mom, day long affairs resulting in far more baked goods than his family and Hajime’s can consume. He should sprawled out on the couch next to his sister, providing overly dramatic commentary for the cheesy holiday movies they both cry over when they have the required happy ending. He should be further cementing his role as the fun and Takeru’s favorite uncle by staying up all night playing video games with him. Okay, he’s Takeru’s only uncle, but that doesn’t mean he should have low standards for himself, especially with a certain spiky haired individual trying to edge in as an unofficial uncle.

As for the aforementioned spiky haired individual...Tooru recalls when they were younger, staying up late the night before Christmas and falling asleep at each other’s houses, only to wake up in their own rooms the next morning. They would rush through the unwrapping of their presents, running next door to show off their haul of new toys and spending the rest of the day playing with them until dinner. Gifts transitioned towards various forms of volleyball gear as they grew older, which Tooru and Hajime always had to try out in the backyard, any other holiday festivities cast aside.

There is a sharp pang in his chest and Tooru rolls over, pressing his face into the couch cushion as he is struck again with the realization that this is not only his first Christmas without his family, it is his first one without Hajime. The lone strand of lights surrounding his bedroom door alternates between bathing the living room in soft red and green light, mocking him. He heaves himself off the couch with a sigh and rips the cord out of its outlet, the room growing dark. He flops back onto the couch with another sigh. He may be a horrible person because it is the thought of not seeing Hajime that is currently eating him up inside. Hajime returned to Japan following his exams, and he’s already called Tooru several times, either while out with Makki and Mattsun, stopping by the school, or just in his room, late at night as he prepares for bed while Tooru is starting his day.

“I should be there with you,” Tooru mumbles into the fabric of the couch cushion, a fresh wave of loneliness washing over him as his heart beats with that deep, bruising ache. It’s not like Tooru didn’t receive offers from all of his teammates to spend the holiday with them and their families, he did. He politely declined, not wanting to intrude, and while it would probably be better than his current situation, he still wouldn’t feel right. He’s perfectly fine with wallowing in his lonely isolation, Tooru decides, at least until his brief break is over and he can go back to focusing on volleyball.

He sighs a third time, long and mournful and curls his knees up towards his chest, resigning himself to his self chosen fate when there is a knock on the door. He lifts his phone, it is eleven. He isn’t expecting company, and certainly not at this hour. He imagined it, Tooru decides. The beginnings of a dream as he drifted off to sleep.

_Knock knock knock_

There it is again, louder and more insistent this time. Tooru's eyes sweep through his apartment, searching for something to defend himself with. Maybe some of his teammates have decided to kidnap him and drag him over to their house for the holiday. Surely if someone were planning on robbing him they wouldn’t knock first. He grabs his volleyball, which isn't the greatest means of defense, but if it comes to it, he can always throw it at his attacker's face and run away while they process what happened. Tooru has plenty of firsthand experience, volleyballs to the head are not pleasant.

Whoever it is knocks again and Tooru's, grip on the volleyball tightens, knuckles turning white. He pauses at the door, pressing his eye to the peephole, vision filling with black because the damn things are utterly useless at night. He undoes the latch, hand resting on the doorknob as he counts to ten, and opens the door, mouth dropping open as the volleyball falls to the floor.

Hajime is standing outside his door, bag by his feet. Hajime can't be here though, he's in Japan. Tooru stares for a moment. The hair is more disheveled than usual, but the broad shoulders and angled jawline are the same, as are the tantalizingly green eyes, struggling to stay open. Tooru's eyes flicker to the reddened downturned lips and his heart flutters, oh how he longs to kiss them. On pure reflex, his hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric of Hajime's shirt before Hajime's own hand flashes out, fingers wrapping around Tom's wrist.

"Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to make me stand out here all night?

The sound of Hajime's voice snaps Toonu of his fog, and he wraps his arms around Hajime, pulling him close, collapsing against him. Tooru’s face presses against Hajime’s neck and he breathes in deep, enveloped by the comforting and familiar scent. Hajime’s arms tighten around him, reassuring him, and he wants to stay like this forever, because Hajime’s arms are home.

“Hajime, what are you doing here?” he breathes out at last, breath hot against Hajime’s neck, still refusing to let go, afraid that if he does, Hajime will disappear.

They sit on Tooru’s couch, Hajime clinging to a half empty coffee cup, his other hand resting on his thigh. Tooru’s hands are restless, sweeping through his hair, drumming on the top of the coffee table, pulling at the fabric of his shirt.

Hajime’s brow lifts above the rim of the coffee cup, eyes trained on Tooru as he takes a deep swig before slamming the empty container down on the table. Without breaking his gaze, he flicks Tooru on the forehead, hard.

“I’m here for you obviously.”

Tooru continues to gape at him, so Hajime flicks him on the head again, harder.

“Oww, Iwa-chan will you stop doing that?”

“I’ll stop when you drop the act. I thought you’d gotten past all this.”

“I have!” Pink spots flare on Tooru’s cheeks and they both flinch at the shrill and defensive tone of his voice. Hajime’s jaw clenches and his eyes narrow and Tooru lowers his gaze, focusing on his hands folded on his lap. “I have” Tooru repeats, directing the statement at his knees. Hajiime grabs his head roughly, their eyes meet, Hajime’s fingers pressing against his cheek when Tooru attempts to look away again.  
“Tooru, look at me.” Tooru’s heart is crashing against his chest, an animal trying to escape from the cage confining it, pupils dilating until there is only the smallest ring of brown visible. “If you’re fine, why are you the one who looks like you just spent twenty something hours on a plane?” Hajime’s thumb strokes at the smooth skin of Tooru’s cheek and he shudders.

Tooru’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’ve just missed you,” he says at last. “This was going to be our first Christmas without each other.” Hajime lets go of Tooru’s face at last, and flicks him square between the eyes. “What did I do now?”

Hajime makes a clucking noise and rolls his eyes. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

As Tooru opens his mouth to protest, Hajime’s lips crash against his, hard. Just as Tooru’s brain registers what is happening, Hajime breaks the kiss off. He pulls away, pinching at Tooru’s cheeks again. “Is that better?”

Tooru nods slowly, heart no longer pounding now, instead a few weak pumps every so often. Apparently satisfied with this answer, Hajime lets go of Tooru’s face. Tooru rubs at the spot where Hajime’s fingers were.

“What about celebrating with your family? Seeing Makki and Mattsun?”

“We celebrated early. My parents weren’t thrilled about it, but they understand. Auntie’s worried about you, she says she hasn’t heard from you for weeks. Everyone kept asking me how you were doing, and you know Tooru, I honestly had no answer because I haven’t heard from you either.”

“Sorry,” the word is little more than a whisper.

Hajime reaches for Tooru’s hand, giving it a tiny squeeze. “It’s okay to be upset you know. But if you don’t actually let anyone know how you’re feeling, how are we supposed to help?”

“And what exactly are you supposed to do when we’re not even in the same place?” The words, the ones Tooru has been feeling in the back of his mind ever since he’s been here, slip out completely unbidden. Hajime squeezes his hand again.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah...you are.” Tooru rests his head on Hajime’s shoulder and Hajime slowly cards his fingers through Tooru’s hair, an act he knows relaxes Tooru.

Time seems to freeze and they sit there in silence like that until Hajime presses a kiss against the soft, downy fluff of Tooru’s hair. He stands and asks if Tooru is coming to bed. Tooru shakes his head.

“I should call my mother,” Tooru replies. Hajime kisses him again. Tooru watches Hajime’s retreating back and lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when it disappears into the shadows of his room. He sucks in another breath and hits his mother’s number, bracing himself for the chewing out he’s about to receive. The phone call is long, well over an hour, and by the end of it, Tooru, his mother, and his sister are all in tears, but when he hangs up, he feels better. Hajime is already in a deep sleep when Tooru slides into the bed next to him, pressing close to the familiar warmth, counting the beats of Hajime’s heart, matching in time to his own.

In the morning, Tooru wakes in a panic when he sees Hajime next to him, realizing the night before wasn’t a dream. Hajime is here, it’s the day before Christmas, and he is so unprepared. A single strand of holiday lights hardly counts as adequate. He taps Hajime urgently on the shoulder.

“Iwa-chan, wake up,” he hisses.

Hajime rolls over with a groan and when he opens his eyes, they are clouded over with the fog of sleep. “S’ matter?” he mumbles, taking in the panicked expression on Tooru’s face.

Tooru’s heart stops when he hears Hajime’s low and gravelly voice, confused as it is. “We have to go out shopping.”

“For?” Hajime asks, further disheveling his hair as he runs a hand through it.

“Tomorrow is Christmas and I haven’t done any decorating at all!” Hajime eyes him for a moment and then rolls back over. “Iwa-chan!”

Hajime sits up with a sigh. “Tooru I just spent an ungodly amount of time on a plane to be here with you. I don’t care what your apartment looks like. I came here to be with you.” He jabs Tooru in the chest for emphasis.

The statement in itself should have been enough, but Tooru is absolutely determined that they make the apartment feel more festive, which is how Hajime finds himself being dragged out the door less than ten minutes later. Tooru laces their fingers together and Hajime allows himself to be pulled along, which is really all anyone can do when Tooru gets something in his head. Everyone else is simply along for the ride.

Tooru’s frustration settles in fairly early, but when they have been out for over two hours with little more to show for their efforts than a few strands of garland and a packet of tinsel, Hajime can tell he’s nearing his breaking point.

“Tooru can we please just go back to your apartment?”

Tooru shoots him a withering glare, the one Hajime has seen him give to opponents on the other side of the net many times over the years. “Iwa-chan, we haven’t even found a tree yet, how are we supposed to go home now?”

Hajime sighs deeply, doubting they’re going to find any semblance of a tree the day before Christmas, but he keeps his mouth shut, lest his head get chewed off. He can feel the jetlag settling in, overpowering even Tooru’s manic enthusiasm. He wonders idly if he passes out in the middle of the street if Tooru will just leave him where he falls.

Another handful of hours pass, and their haul has only improved minimally. Hajime is barely awake at this point, and even Tooru, with his newfound resolve, is getting ready to throw in the towel. That is until by sheer luck, they manage to find what is possibly the smallest tree Hajime has ever laid eyes on. Tooru however, is positively beaming. He punches Hajime excitedly on the shoulder, declaring the tree perfect.

“Now can we go home?” Hajime asks yet again, and to his relief, Tooru consents.

When they arrive back at the apartment, any delusions Hajime had about being able to go back to bed are thrown out the window. Tooru insists they need to decorate the apartment immediately, and Hajime is too tired to argue with him. It’s amazing what a few strands of garland will do to a place. Tooru hums as he removes the strand of lights from around his door frame and wraps it around the dejected looking tree before declaring it perfect.

They rip open the packets of tinsel, and apparently there’s some sort of method to the madness because Tooru’s side of the tree is far more elegant looking than Hajime’s. “Iwa-chan, honestly, it’s like you’re not even trying,” he quips, resulting in Hajime throwing a handful of tinsel in at him. Tooru grins wickedly, grabbing his own handful in retaliation. There is a short scuffle, during which a large number of silvery strands are thrown into the air before slowly gliding to the floor around them.

“Looks like I win,” Tooru sings from his place atop Hajime’s chest as his knees dig into Hajime’s ribs, cheeks flushed with pink. Hajime reaches up and brushes a stray strand of tinsel out of his hair.

“Try it again on a day when I’m not jet lagged,” he teases.

They relocate to the couch, where they kiss lazily until Hajime begins to fall asleep. Tooru quietly untangles himself and cleans up the mess on the floor, surveying their work. Not bad, for last minute, he thinks. He finishes placing the sparse decorations on the tree, glancing over at Hajime every so often.

Night is beginning to fall by the time Hajime wakes back up. “Oh good, you’re up,” Tooru’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “We have to go.”

Hajime’s face scrunches up and he represses the urge to scream. “Where do we need to go now?”

“It’s a surprise,” is the only response he receives.

The sky is a deep purple, just showing the hints of black as they make their way up a hill. Tooru is pressed close to Hajime as they walk, swinging their hands to their footsteps. They reach the top of the hill and Tooru spreads a woolen blanket on the grass, before plopping down on top of it. The lights of San Juan spread out below them.

“What do you think?” Tooru asks, just as the first fireworks explode across the sky, showering it with color.

Stunning is the word that comes to Hajime’s mind, though not as stunning as the boy sitting next to him. A variety of blues, reds, and greens dance across Tooru’s hair as it catches the light from the fireworks. “You’re beautiful,” Hajime breathes, and Tooru turns to look at him just as another burst of fireworks fills the sky. Hajime reaches for him, cupping Tooru’s face in his hands. Tooru tilts his chin upwards. As their lips meet, everything else fades away.

The fireworks continue overhead, but Hajime is only aware of the weight of Tooru’s head on his chest and their fingers still linked together. Neither one of them can say for sure how long they lay there, watching the stars twinkling overhead between fireworks. They both wish it could be forever.

When they both find themselves drifting off, they stand, folding the blanket back up. They slowly make their way back down the hill, pausing every so often for another kiss. Every so often the otherwise still night air is punctuated by the sound of another firework going off. By the time they reach Tooru’s apartment they are barely hanging onto consciousness. Clumsily, they make their way to Tooru’s bed and fall asleep tangled together.

Hajime wakes to the scent of Tooru cooking in the morning. He wanders into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Tooru’s waist. “Merry Christmas,” he murmurs into Tooru’s ear.

“Merry Christmas,” Tooru replies, melting into his touch before gesturing over their heads with the spatula.

Hajime’s eyes flicker upwards to find the sprig of mistletoe dangling from the light overhead. “You’re so needy.” He elbows Tooru lightly in the ribs.

“No kiss, no breakfast,” Tooru replies, without turning to look at him.

Hajime sighs and plants a kiss on Tooru’s cheek. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.” Tooru stabs at him with the spatula in response.

After breakfast, it’s time for lengthy video calls with their families during which their parents guilt them both for not being in Japan before reminding them to look after each other.

“I can’t believe my parents are getting on my case over spring semester on Christmas,” Hajime moans after they hang up.

“Were you really expecting any different?” Tooru asks as Hajime buries his head in his hands.

Their calls with Issei and Takahiro are far more light hearted, with a good amount of teasing over how soft Hajime has gotten, which Tooru is more than happy to contribute to. A considerable portion of their day is spent on Tooru’s couch, with muted Christmas movies on in the background.

“I can’t believe you got me customized hand weights. Though that explains why your gift weighed so much.”

“Iwa-chan, are you going to cry?”

“Of course not,” Hajime protests as he wipes at his eye. He re-reads the words written on both sides of the stand, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“There’s more you know,” Tooru adds, handing him another smaller package.

Hajime is pretty sure he knows what it is, but his breath still catches when he opens the paper, revealing the vibrant blue fabric. He turns it over and traces his fingers over the name “Oikawa” stitched on the back. He doesn’t bother trying to wipe the tears away this time.

“Well now I feel like I didn’t do enough,” Hajime says as he hands Tooru his present.

Tooru accepts the gift and delicately begins to unwrap it. “Knee pads?”

“It’s some new kind of experimental fiber they’re working on I thought you might…” Hajime is cut off by Tooru flinging himself on top of him.

“You know what?” Tooru asks later on in the evening, when they lay curled up on the couch together.

Hajime stops running his hand through Tooru’s hair. “What?”

“I think this is my favorite Christmas yet.”

“Really?” Hajime opens his eyes and looks around the apartment, at the tiny tree, with its lone strand of blinking lights and the few strings of garland.

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbles, his voice muffled as he nuzzles face against Hajime’s neck.

“Why’s that?”

Tooru lifts his head, locking his eyes with Hajime’s. “Because you’re here.” He gestures at the apartment around them. “All of this doesn’t matter. Sure decorations are nice, and make it feel more like the holidays, but those are just things. They’re not you. As long as you’re here, I don’t need all that. Just being with you is enough.” He rests his head back down on Hajime’s chest.

It is, Hajime thinks.

A few days later, they are at the airport, getting ready for Hajime to depart for California. A silence falls between them as they draw out their goodbyes, holding off for the last possible minute.

“Iwa-chan?” Tooru bites at his lip, hesitating. “Thank you for spending your holidays with me. Sorry for worrying you.”

Hajime raps Tooru on the top of the head. “You don’t have to keep apologizing, you’re worth it. Just don’t do it anymore, okay?”

As they announce final boarding, Tooru pulls Hajime in for one final long and lingering kiss goodbye. Hajime has barely begun to walk away before a thought enters his mind.

“Iwa-chan!”

Hajime turns around to find Tooru pointing at him.

“You may have been the one who made the grand romantic gesture this time, but just wait to see what I have in store for you for Valentine’s Day!”

Tooru smirks as he watches Hajime’s face and ears turn bright red, turning and heading back towards the entrance of the airport before Hajime can respond.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually first had this thought back in September-ish and wasn't planning on doing anything with it, but now here we are.  
> I started this and then got distracted by my longer fic and something else and didn't think I was going to finish, coming in at the wire I guess.
> 
> I hope that all of you enjoy your holidays!
> 
> You can find me on twitter [stormysgambit](https://twitter.com/stormysgambit)


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